Final Fantasy XIII is a game that I am really unsure about. The pervasive warcry of “a step backward” from the gaming press and fans has set up a discussion that I feel requires one to take sides on the truth of that statement. Michael Abbott’s Deep Fantasy post at The Brainy Gamer avoids this framing to focus on the depth of the narrative elements of the game and the creation of some positive female lead characters. In doing so he cites Simon Ferrari’s analysis from Chungking Espresso to argue that the paring back of the game systems is what allowed the narrative to shine through: ”ease the complexity of the game’s formal systems and increase the complexity of the game’s storytelling”.
The Final Fantasy series is nothing if it is not a journey. The places you go on that journey are the story arcs and moments of character development whilst the landmarks are FMV cutscenes and orchestral scores but the vehicle is always the gameplay; the motive force bringing you to the next stop on your travels.
The vehicle of FFXIII was supplied to me in a very careful and deliberate way. As a result I felt confident in my understanding of the game systems and my ability to guide this vehicle along the journey, which I suspect was the designers intention. By fostering this high level of player comprehension the complexity of the storytelling is allowed to shine through, unimpeded by player frustration. Where I differ from Michael is that I cannot agree on the gravity and importance of certain scenarios and characters within the narrative. This is not because he was incorrect in the identification of places and landmarks along his journey but because we were driving different vehicles. The level of player understanding fostered by FFXIII meant that my party was configured to be the set of abilities and paradigms I needed to traverse the current series of combat puzzles. The journey of FFXIII for me did not elevate Lightning l suspect it did for Michael. This is because she did not occupy a central position in the gameplay the filter through which, as a player, I combine the narrative elements.
Personally my narrative experience of videogames is that of gameplay as a lens to interpret the elements more traditionally associated with storytelling. Whilst reflecting on what stood out in the narrative of Final Fantasy XIII I thought of the strength of Fang and to a lesser extent the personal stories of Hope and Lightning whilst Sazh and Snow barely register in my recollection beyond their early actions. I am unsure of the exact breakdown but I feel that the game is balanced in how the amount of development it provides for each member of the ensemble cast. The only difference I could find is that Fang was almost always the leader of my party with Lightning and Hope in tow. My personal vehicle on this particular Final Fantasy journey is what enabled a subjective narrative experience.
What is exciting is that even with such a wealth of content FFXIII was able to provide a cohesive narrative journey through places and landmarks across the different vehicles created by player choice. I am unsure about Final Fantasy XIII because I have found that the slow and methodical introduction of gameplay elements and characters, the first port of call when crying “a step backward”, is precisely what was needed to enable personalization of the narrative. To give me what I needed to play the game and enough of each character to feel a connection no matter who formed the parts of my vehicle. This was unexpected.
I have tracked the evolution of the Rockstar Games version of the open world genre over the years with much interest. They are unmatched in their ability to create cohesive worlds rich in atmosphere that beg to be explored and played with. With each new release Rockstar have also attempted to develop a much richer guided narrative, with mixed results. However even with their track record Rockstar has been unable to reconcile the player freedom in the open world space with the constraints of providing a fleshed out character-driven story. This criticism of their games has been presented by other in more detail elsewhere so I will put it simply: In Red Dead Redemption my violent rampage with rifle and lasso is not the most suitable bridge between the chapters of the story of John Marston.
As many will already know Red Dead Redemption is an apple that does not fall far from the tree that is Rockstar Games’ open world formula. It’s single player portion does contain refinements that go a ways to addressing the above failing but regardless there is still ample ammunition for anyone who wishes to take that position. At the same time there is the multiplayer free roam portion of Red Dead Redemption. It comes tantalizingly close to fulfilling that dreamy promise of the ideal Rockstar multiplayer mode where anything might be possible. In free roam the whim of player and posse defines the next set of actions and stories are created from the conditions set up by Rockstar at the start. It is like some mad scientist version of Conway’s Game of Life…with horses. Through the lense of this maniacal creation I can build up a narrative where I will stop a hard driven pursuit to add to my collection of local flora or pause to share the sunset with a friend before blowing their head off just as they begin to describe what we were sharing. I am finding this method of narrative creation to be extremely satisfying and it has inevitably led me to compare it with the completely separate single player experience. And that is to be expected isn’t it?
I have always enjoyed that this medium has demarcation zones created by the player between our single and multiplayer experiences. With few exceptions games today provide us with easy ways to do this. The separation of Gerard as multiplayer cowboy from hell and Gerard as John Marston is as easy as paying attention to the two options provided when the title screen loads. It has even reached a point on the development side where games like Starcraft 2 and Medal of Honor utilise separate development teams for each experience. There are few brave enough to entertain the idea that one could merge the multiplayer ladder climb with the singleplayer narrative(?) of Modern Warfare 2. It is not worth that kind of effort and the reason is clear. These are parts of the same whole, the game that sits on your shelf, but we separate these experiences because they are simply not the same. Players are accustomed to having these dissociated story’s within a single game but I don’t think we go far enough.
Why must we join the John Marston of the open world of Red Dead Redemption with that of the John Marston of cutscenes and directed missions?
Are we compelled beyond our power to the tyranny of our avatar’s appearance or who inhabits the virtual space around us?
Do our stories really require a level of consistency that will place a limit to the interactivity we so greatly treasure?
Videogames provide us with a system to play with, not to be controlled by. The process of forming my own story through my play is mine to structure and control, and at times to edit. No boasting Halo player ever speaks of his defeats so I feel I have some small license to separate my stories. Red Dead Redemption continues the tradition of providing an expansive and atmospheric world for me to explore. I will make my own separate stories with the online free mode, with my random actions in singleplayer and with my connection to a strong character in John Marston. I am empowered in demarcating my time with a videogame because I am the player. If this is to be my escapism then I will craft many varied and interesting experiences and I look forward to any game that provides me with a Game of Life-and-then-some to do so.
I support the tyranny of player over game.
I have just finished my first game which I have named WorkSleepDream. It is a very simple game but I am happy with it. Along with some other development diary type stuff will contribute to the folio assessment for my first ever programming subject. The game was coded in the SwinGame API using Pascal. SwinGame has been developed over time within my university and Pascal has been the language of choice for my subject which is aimed at introducing the basics of procedural programming. Having never done any programming prior to 10 weeks ago I have really enjoyed the process of learning, designing and implementing this the code for WorkSleepDream.
Work Sleep Dream is set up to represent three states we exist in when we go about our day and how we can move between them. Nothing too fancy.
I would love to see any kind of feedback in the comments as I still have a few weeks before I have to submit my folio.
I hope you enjoy.
Download:
WorkSleepDream (compiled for Windows)
I associate that kind of puzzle/action only with a few games, like the original Alone in the Dark or Dragon’s Lair (or Flashback, but we’re not gonna talk about that).
In my eyes, Another World stands apart from those games in the creativity of its solutions. It has the speed of an action/adventure game, but the puzzling elegance of a static adventure game.
-crmbreault
One of the first yet minor things that I noticed was how the game used these long halls with (I guess it’s called) negative space either above or below the action to signal transition from one stage to the next. For some reason, I really like this design choice. It seems to bookend the action with these moments where atmosphere speaks on behalf of the game. This appeals to my sensibilities as a gamer.
-twentyeigth
Wow, the Arena perfectly mirrors the player and the protagonist’s emotional state and experience. I was just frantically mashing buttons, praying something would happen. That’s exactly what the protagonist was doing.
-nelsormensch
The ending made me rethink who the “protagonist” of the story was really supposed to be. I had almost no empathy for the human character, other than wanting him to get further along in the story and survive to the end. The game didn’t really present his actions as selfless; they were mostly a means to an uncertain end. Even the moments where he “rescued” the alien are framed in a survival context, both intra-textually (“I must do this to have this guy as cover and direction”) and extra-textually (“I must do this because I can’t progress in the game unless I do”). The alien, on the other hand, had more freedom and knowledge of the alien world, and could have probably escaped on his own, making his sudden appearances especially heroic.
It makes you wonder how necessary or enriching “moral choice,” or at least its current implementation, really is contemporary games. Simply watching characters unfold through their actions, whether you directly choose them or not, seems poignant enough sometimes.
-Frohike
I think that is related to what I loved about the game on this replay; it gave us everything we needed and which we would plausibly have no more, no less. We had no information regarding the aliens other than what we saw. The only dialog was untranslated (because it was untranslatable) alien speech (in the 15th anniversary edition at least).
That fidelity to plausibility — within certain limitations — is what allowed the game to convincingly instill that sense of loneliness that Lester must feel and the utter sense of alienness the world must hold for him. In turn, in that world, survival and companionship are the best one could realistically hope for.
-sqlasheen
All fragments are taken from the discussions surrounding the Vintage Game Club playthrough of Another World.
To read more: The Vintage Game Club: Another World forum
To get involved: Another World on Good Old Games
To try a different path: Official site for Another World
